


The Golden Ruin

by tyelkormofuckyou



Series: Fae Silmarillion AU [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Dubious Consent, Eldritch Elves, Evil Finrod, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Twisted Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyelkormofuckyou/pseuds/tyelkormofuckyou
Summary: Finrod can’t help wanting the most of his first human. Too bad he doesn’t ask for permission.
Relationships: Bëor the Old/Finrod Felagund | Findaráto
Series: Fae Silmarillion AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138517
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	The Golden Ruin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354426) by [JazTheBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/pseuds/JazTheBard), [SecretlyThranduil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyThranduil/pseuds/SecretlyThranduil). 



> Thank you SecretlyThranduil for letting me do this!

He looks so beautiful, he’s the most beautiful thing Balan has ever seen. Thousands of flickering lights dance on the glasses and plates, in the Faerie Folk’s big almond eyes, in their long hair and golden embroidery, but he shines the brightest. His white robe light as a feather, yet the Nauglamir looks heavy on his long neck.

Balan looks at a bowl filled with some kind of small jelly balls.

“Could you tell me, sir, what this food is?” he asks a dark-haired Fae who reaches for it.

The Fae smiles politely. “It’s caviar.” Seeing the complete lack of understanding on Balan’s face, he further explains, “Salmon spawn.”

Balan nods, and the Fae passes him the bowl. He takes a spoon of the dish, and tries it, but it tastes disgusting and he almost spits it out.

The Fae around him look at him with contempt, two ladies of the court giggle, the one in the pink dress whispering something in her friend’s ear. Wisdom notices their expressions, but pretends not to see; he leans over Balan and whispers in his ear.

“Don’t worry about them, my dear,” his warm breath tickles Balan’s skin. “Try the tart, I think you’ll like it.”

The jewelry in his hair chinks and clangs when he moves. His inhumanely long fingers are adorned with rings, and many of the jewels he wears shine on their own. The Nauglamir throws beams of light on his chin, jawline and hair, and he doesn’t move his head as loosely and naturally as usual, for the dwarven gold, despite the unimaginable beauty and craft, is stiff.

Balan can’t take his eyes off him, distracted from tasting the tart properly. Wisdom laughs and drinks from his glass chalice, his slender hand holding it by a silver handle that’s sculpted into the shape of a young woman with a fish tail instead of legs, arching in a sultry pose.

Balan sees Wisdom’s slightly too long nails, painted with gold.

Balan stares at Wisdom’s glossy lips, while Wisdom takes a sip. Then, Wisdom laughs, probably at some dignitary’s joke, and bares his white teeth, that seem just a bit too sharp.

Balan wants to touch them, to see if they can draw blood. They’re beautiful.

He doesn’t want that brown-haired Lord to be the one that makes Wisdom laugh like that. Why isn’t this sweet song for his ears only?

Wisdom looks at him, his deep blue eyes sparkling with joy and humor. Balan wonders if Wisdom can read minds.

The servants bring forth the dessert, and Wisdom stands up. He speaks of joy and happiness, and wishes his people to have days as sweet as the cakes are. Balan knows that Wisdom’s favorite taste is sweet, and loves Wisdom so much when honey drips from his raspberry lips.

“Balan, my dearest,” Balan feels like he could fly, “try ice-cream. I doubt you’ve ever eaten it.” Wisdom gestures a servant to fill Balan’s plate with curious dishes of the Fae, adorning it with fruit and liquid chocolate.

It tastes like heaven, as if pink clouds and the sunbeams of dawn were on his tongue. He says it aloud, and Wisdom laughs. It makes the dish even sweeter. “Thank you, my beauty,” Wisdom’s slender finger tucks a curl behind Balan’s round ear.

“It’s you who’s the beauty here,” Balan says. “You’re more beautiful than those caves and crystals and golden treasures, sweeter than honey and berries. You take my breath away.”

Wisdom’s pink cheeks turn red; Balan’s heart leaps. “You’re flattering me, my strong one. Your praise makes my blood feel warm,” his voice is the only thing Balan hears now, the harps and flutes forgotten. He reaches for Balan’s silver spoon and Balan tastes the ice-cream again, not daring to close his eyes to savor the taste, for he fears that once he opens them, the divine sight of his golden love will be lost.

_____

“His Majesty wants to see you,” the woman in the blue dress smirks.

“In his chamber,” the pink one adds, sharing a look with her friend. “We’ll show you the way.”

Balan is overwhelmed with joy, and follows them without a word. The door, no wonder, is golden, delicate, skillfully crafted leaves and vines adorning it. The ladies giggle and walk away, whispering amusedly.

Balan knocks. The door opens.

Wisdom is, if it’s possible, even more beautiful than on the feast. His golden hair reaches his loins and thighs, cascading in waves. The room is filled with little candles, and Wisdom isn’t wearing his formal gown anymore. Balan swallows hard, noticing the robes being slightly transparent. They’re both flowing and hugging Wisdom’s body so delicately, and Balan could bet he’s in a dream.

“Come in,” Wisdom smiles gently. “Take a seat.”

Balan falls onto the edge of the big, soft bed, unable to blink.

“I hope you won’t mind me doing it in front of you,” Wisdom chuckles a bit nervously, and glances at Balan while taking a golden pin out of his hair.

“I could never mind you doing anything if I’m with you,” Balan says. Wisdom softly laughs and sits in front of his vanity, slowly removing all jewelry from his body and out of his long hair, brushing it, and washing his makeup off. Balan watches, speechless and spellbound, as bracelets, rings, ear adornments, little chains of gold and silver, pearls and diamonds slowly disappear from Wisdom’s body.

Finally Wisdom takes the Nauglamir off and lays it gently on the table. He turns around and starts brushing his now unbound hair.

Balan watches the golden tresses, hypnotized.

Wisdom lays one leg over the another and Balan notices that he’s barefoot, his toenails golden just like his fingernails. He watches Balan with delicate amusement. “See something you like?”

“I’m sorry,” Balan blurts out and with great effort forces himself to look down. “I shouldn’t have stared.”

“Oh my baby-Balan,” Wisdom purrs, “I didn’t mean that. You can watch me as much as you’d like,” he arches, clearly displaying himself. “By all means, gaze upon me. It’s flattering.”

Balan swallows, because watching someone dressed like that – a _man_ dressed like that – would be sinful enough. But looking at Wisdom’s body can’t be a sin – nothing that beautiful can count as a sin. He looks like an angel, and Balan already convinced himself that he is one when they first met.

The thin robe slips from Wisdom’s leg, revealing a slender, alabaster-white thigh. Balan’s breath quickens.

“Balan,” Wisdom whispers, “would you like a closer look?”

Balan feels like he couldn’t manage a word right now, so he only nods.

Wisdom gets up and moves slowly, as if dancing, getting closer and closer. The fabric flows, the golden waves sway gently with every step.

Wisdom unties his robe on the front, held together by just one ribbon.

He has only a very, _very_ small piece of white fabric on his crotch, and his torso is bare and slender, flickering with gold in the candlelight.

Balan feels like he’s going to faint.

“Do you like it?” Wisdom blushes like a maiden, but Balan feels that the Fae knows the answer.

“I have no words,” he whispers, marveling at the sight. “You could be the only muse of all artists, but none of them could ever create such beauty.”

“I want to see you, too,” Wisdom whispers.

Balan knows he’s nowhere as beautiful as the ugliest of the Fae of Nargothrond, yet he obeys. He takes his tunic off.

Wisdom kneels in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Balan asks, quietly.

Wisdom looks up in his eyes, and lays his hands on Balan’s hips.

“I want you.”

Tears form in Balan’s eyes.

Wisdom lays his forehead on Balan’s thigh, and then moves further. Balan squeaks quietly.

Wisdom lays a long finger on his lips with a smile, and then reaches for the straps on the front of Balan’s breeches.

Balan suspects, but isn’t sure. He’s heard of the girls who give pleasure with their mouths and secretly he’s always been curious about it, but he’d been always too embarrassed to mention it to his wife.

Wisdom takes his breeches and boots off, and looks up with mischief in his big blue eyes. Balan notices that his eyelashes are golden too, and they’re darker at the base than at the ends.

“Nóm…”

“Yes?”

“You don’t- you don’t have to, it’s-,” his breath hitches.

“But you want it, am I right?” Wisdom cocks his head like a curious animal.

“I- I do,” Balan feels his cheeks becoming red. “But- is it not a dirty, shameless thing?” He’s long stopped caring if he’s undressed in front of another man, Wisdom is fairer than any woman he’s seen, but he feels like he should be the one kneeling.

Wisdom laughs. “What makes you think I’m not shameless?”

Balan almost chokes. It sounds so debauched coming from these pink lips. “I- I don’t deserve it, I should be-“

Wisdom looks at him tenderly. “I’d love you to. But I wish to give you pleasure tonight.”

Balan’s eyes almost roll back at these words.

Wisdom smiles again and looks down, a golden curl falling on his face, and he leans in closer. Balan shivers, and his eyes _do_ roll back when he feels a little tongue gently touching him, and-

“I didn’t know Men have hair down there as well,” Wisdom smirks, looking up again.

Balan almost loses himself in the deep blue eyes. “Should I have shaved?”

“No, I prefer it this way,” Wisdom bites his lip, “it makes you different from us.”

Then he doesn’t speak at all, and Balan moans. The sight of the golden head between his legs would be enough, but he _feels_ every sensual touch, and he sees the slender body through the thin robe, and-

“Noooom,” he mewls, “Nóm, please-”

Wisdom laughs a bit breathlessly and keeps working, gently touching Balan’s perineum with a long finger coated in something sticky, and then the finger _slides down._

“What are you doing?!” Balan wakes up from the bliss and looks at Wisdom with wide eyes. Wisdom smiles innocently, a look very wanton especially since Balan’s red cock is in his face. “What-“

“Don’t you want it?” Wisdom cocks his head, curls swaying. “It’s very good. You’ll love it. Don’t worry, my fingers are thinner than yours.”

“Why would you…” Balan wrinkles his nose.

“I like it,” Wisdom says, matter-of-factly. “I’ve even done it thinking about you, you know?”

Balan’s pulse quickens when the image appears in his clouded mind, and his body reacts a way he wouldn’t expect from a thought of someone having something in their butt. “You… you did it?”

“Yes,” Wisdom smiles sweetly, “I’ve had three fingers all the way to the knuckles, and it felt damn good to imagine they’re yours.”

“Oh Gods.” Balan loses his breath for a second. “I- I want to try it.”

Wisdom smirks.

Moans echo in the chamber, candlelights dance, and Wisdom is gentle and skillful, ~~and he has Balan on his mercy~~. He doesn’t push, makes sure Balan is comfortable, and his long finger at that _one secret spot_ , and his tongue-

“Nóm, please,” Balan begs.

“You’re so pretty,” Wisdom purrs, “I’m so glad I have you. You’re mine, remember? My prize, no-one else’s.”

“I’m yours,” Balan moans.

“You’re mine, Bëor,” Wisdom whispers between little licks, “do you want to be mine, my Bëor?”

“Yes! Just please,-“

“Say it, and I will,” Wisdom’s smile is sweet as he looks up, his big blue eyes framed with golden lashes.

“I’m yours, Nóm,” Bëor says, “I’m your Bëor, yours only, I want to forget myself, forget everything that isn’t you-“

Wisdom swallows him whole, and savors all the release, and grins. He owns him now, his little human pet.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t mess with a Fae, and don’t tell them you’re theirs. Useful advice


End file.
